Eliot Strange and the Prince of the Apocalypse

19) Editor of the Paper

Mr. Johnson is not your typical newspaper editor of a small town paper. For one thing, he is only twenty-six years old. He chose what most considered a dying profession because he is a third generation newspaper man, and he refuses to believe that the written press is dead. And since all technology is now dead, I guess he was right. Like his predecessors, he has an unwavering sense of responsibility to report the news and facts to his public. Mr. Johnson is a steward of the truth and the right of the people to know it. This is why he is still in town.

"Lunatics," he says when we ask him who gave him the picture of the wanted man to print in his paper. "Came in here and held a gun to my head and demanded I print them. I tricked them though. I told them I only had a little ink left. That's why the quality is so poor. Only printed about a hundred."

"Who were they?" asks Steven.

"Said they were an advance patrol for the One Nation Army. They said they were looking for this man, and they needed him alive. They said the man was headed this way."

"Why'd they want him?" I ask.

"Didn't say, though from listening to their conversations on the side when they didn't think I was paying attention, I gather they are not the only ones searching for this man. I think our people are looking for him too."

"Our people?" I ask because I am wondering who our people are now. Who is on our side?

"The United States," Mr. Johnson clarifies. "I don't know if it is what is left of the government or the military, but those One Nation guys were scared they would not find their man first. They said their leader would crucify them if they did not catch him first."

"Crucify?" Steven asks, "like Jesus?"

"Crucify. Like Jesus. I know that part is true because I heard this from some of the last refugees passing through town. It was not fear-mongering either because one of them had a picture."

"I didn't see that in your paper," I say.

"I debated it. I know the only people left here are elderly people, crazy people, and people too stubborn or unable to leave. I didn't want to terrify the old people. I figure, if they haven't left yet, maybe they can't. I didn't want their last days to be lived in fear."

"Thank you," says Steven. "My Nana is still here, but she is leaving tomorrow."

"I guess I need to go too. Can't do any good, can't tell the whole truth, and I don't want to help that crazy army. I am going to smash this small press after I print the last edition of The Mount Airy Daily News. Then, I am going to take apart the big press, and hide some parts. If they get gas for the generators, they will be able to print all the propaganda they want. I won't be a part of that."

"I know that will be hard for you," says Steven.

Steven is so intuitive. I need to pay more attention. The man looks like he is beaten down. "Everybody has to do their part," I add to make him feel better about smashing his whole life.

 "You're kind of a rebel, Mr. Johnson," says Steven.

He smiles. "Yeah, I guess I am. Do y'all mind if I take your picture? For the final copy? Might be nice to have some citizens in the last paper."

"What will the caption be?" I ask.

"I am thinking something dramatic. Something defiant. Something that says that we never surrendered - even when everyone else ran." Mr. Johnson still has a little fight in him.

"How about - God Bless America?" suggests Steven.

"Perfect," says Mr. Johnson. He takes our picture. Funny thing is, it is going to be my first time on the front page of my hometown newspaper. I have never even been in the paper, not so much as a ball team picture or a girl scout event. Nothing. I am about as important to my town as the now not-working stop lights. I am a nobody and a nothing, and now I am going to be on the front page of my hometown paper, and it is the last paper ever.

Steven and I ride to my house on the bicycle built for one to pick up my bike. We go inside the house to grab some water, and I nearly trip over my birthday packages.

"Two days," says Steven. "Two days 'til your birthday. About time to celebrate Eliot."

I don't feel much like a celebration. "We might have to open them sooner. I hope we are gone after your Nana leaves tomorrow. From what Mr. Johnson says, we don't have much time."

"What about you-know-who?" asks Steven. "Our prince," he says when I don't respond.

I say this slowly so that Steven will understand the seriousness of our situation. "Steven. Crucify. The people that want him are crucifying people. Crucify. Think about it. It is not safe to be with him. We will help him this one time, but then we have to go. We may have already waited too late. We don't need a crazy army chasing us."

"Rule one. Help others."

"Steven."

"Rule two. Leave no man behind."

"Steven."

"Rule three. Save the prince."

"Steven."

"You like him. I know it. I know you girl. You like him too. I think you really like him."

"Steven. I don't like him at all."

"You do, I know you girl. Better than you know yourself."

"No, you don't."

"Rule three. Save the prince."

"Steven. You can't keep making up these ridiculous rules. They are going to get us killed."

"Maybe, but at least we will die Steven and Eliot. At least we die who we were before, not some selfish, run-from-trouble, backstabbing cowards."

I don't have a comeback because what do you say to that. 

We make a plan to divide and conquer. We split the main streets up because those are the only streets Mr. Johnson had the kid on the bike post the newspaper that was basically a wanted poster for a prince. I am going to take most of Main Street all the way south to Bannertown, and Steven will take the streets closest to his house.

"I'm not going all the way to the Derby," I say, "I'm going to turn around at Chase & Charli's."

"God, I miss restaurants," says Steven.

I nod back in agreement. "A skirt burger would be so good right now or a big, country breakfast."

We both sigh and my stomach rumbles a little in agreement. We make plans to meet back at Steven's house when we are through. We want to have one last supper with Nana.

"Just in case we don't see her for awhile," says Steven.

"Yeah, it might be a little while before we can get back to get her." I lie because we both know the truth, but neither of us wants to say it out loud. We are not coming back, ever. Not even to get Nana.

__________

Author's Note - If you don't know by now, Mount Airy is a real place and the restaurants are real too. If you are ever in town, stop by to see the owner, Todd, at Chase & Charli's. Tell him hello, and you read about his restaurant here.